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8 " I take these little lambs," said he,
"And lay them in my breast;
"Protection they shall find in me,
"In me be ever blest.

4 " Death may the bands of life unloose,

"But can't dissolve my love; "Millions of infant souls compose "The family above.

5 " Their feeble frames my pow'r shall raise,

"And mould with heavenly skill; "I'll give them tongues to sing my praise, "And hands to do my will."

<5 His words the happy parents hear,

And shout with joys divine; 'Dear Saviour, all we have and are,

Shall be for ever thine.

76. Saints departed. (P. M.)

1 TTTHEN we view the saints declining,

VV To the shady vale of death;
Varied feelings then combining,
Show the power, and worth of faith:
Sharp the conflict,—nature trying,—
Fond connexions soon to cease:—
"Oh the pain,—the bliss of dying,"
Dying thus in Christ, and peace!

2 Pious friends the saint surrounding,
Ah, what sympathies arise!

Love, and grief, and joy abounding,—
Soon to gain the heavenly prize!

Faith, through pain and death, can open,
Prospects bright, the mind to cheer ;—
Rests on promises unbroken;
Brings eternal objects near.

Love, and joy, and knowledge springing,-
Free from all that once distrest:
Jesu's smile new pleasures bringing;;
Jesu's smile is heaven's rest!
Jesu's image now possessing;—
Mingling with the hosts above,
Worship, honour, power, and blessing,
Flow from lips attun'd by love.

277- The Pilgrim's End. (P.M.)

1 "1%/TARK the weary pilgrim walking, -j-ta Near to Jordan's fearful streams; With his heart and Jesus talking,

Canaan's glory on him beams:
Now his journey past retracing,

Sins and mercies mark the road;
Now the promises embracing,

These ensure his rest with God!

2 Love and gratitude expressing,

For the special gift of grace;
Nought of guilt his mind oppressing,—

Nought his lips employ but praise:
For the close of life prepared,

Ready to go up and die;
Since his Jesus has declared,

To his spirit he'll be nigh.

I See how calm his head reclining,

With the promis'd land in view; All his dearest friends resigning,—

Now he finds the promise true. Jesus now his mind sustaining,

With him in the hour of grief; Soon the heights of glory gaining,

Heaven's joys bring quick relief!

Jesus, may I thus be favour'd;

May I thus resign my breath; With thy faithful ones be gather'd,

When I tread the vale of death. Let me live on Christ depending,

On him cast my every care: Peaceful to my grave descending,

See his face,—his favour share!


O. Mortality and Hope. (L. M.)

REMEMBER, Lord, our mortal state,
How frail our life! how short the date!
Where is the man that draws his breath,
Safe from disease, secure from death?

! Lord, while we see whole nations die,
Our flesh and sense repine and cry,
"Must death for ever rage and reign?
"Or hast thou made mankind in vain?

t " Where is thy promise to the just?
"Are not thy servants turn'd to dust 1"
But faith forbids these mournful sighs,
And sees the sleeping dust arise.

4 That glorious hour, that dreadful day,
Wipes the reproach of saints away.
And clears the honour of thy word;
Awake, our souls, and bless the Lord.

2 / y. Man mortal, and God eternal. (L. M.)

1 rrVHROUGH every age, eternal God,

-*- Thou art our rest, our safe abode; High was thy throne ere heav'n was made, Or earth thy humble footstool laid.

2 Long hadst thou reign'd ere time began, Or dust was fashion'd to a man;

And long thy kingdom shall endure,
When earth and time shall be no more.

3 But man, weak man, is born to die,
Made up of guilt and vanity;

Thy dreadful sentence, Lord, was just,
"Return, ye sinners, to your dust."

4 A thousand of our years amount
Scarce to a day in thine account;
Like yesterday's departed light,
Or the last watch of ending night.


5 Death, like an overflowing stream,
Sweeps us away ; our life's a dream;
An empty tale; a morning flower,
Cut down and wither'd in an hour.

6 Our age to seventy years is set;

How short the term! how frail the state!

And if to eighty we arrive,

We rather sigh and groan than live.

7 But O how oft thy wrath appears,
And cuts off our expected years!
Thy wrath awakes our humble dread;
We fear the power that strikes us dead.

8 Teach us, O Lord, how frail is man;
And kindly lengthen out our span,
Till a wise care of piety,

Fit us to die, and dwell with thee.

80. The Death and Burial of a Saint. (C.M.)

1 TTTHY do we mourn departing friends?

»» Or shake at death's alarms? Tis but the voice that Jesus sends, To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too,

As fast as time can move!
Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love.

3 Why should we tremble to convey,

Their bodies to the tomb? There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, And left a long perfume.

4 The graves of all his saints he bless'd,

And soften'd every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying head I

a Thence he arose, ascending high,
And show'd our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising day.

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